


L0-N3-D1GG3R

by Tallyverse



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Bartender K1-B0, M/M, Not Beta Read, Robot/Human Relationships, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, my first fic in this fandom, sort of like DBH but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-05-19 02:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19347337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallyverse/pseuds/Tallyverse
Summary: Rantaro enters a nightclub and sees a robot behind the bar. Suddenly, he’s not visiting for just the drinks anymore.





	1. A piece of cilantro walks into a bar

**Author's Note:**

> Immediately I want to apologize for any character inaccuracies since I’ve only been into DR for a short while, but other than that I hope you enjoy this (self-indulgent) Amiibo fic! ^^
> 
> Title is from Caravan Palace’s song Lone Digger.

The cool night air swept through the front door of the nightclub as Rantaro stepped inside, one hand running through his soft, green hair in an attempt to settle it down. He stopped for a moment, turning around to gaze into his reflection in the glass, frowning slightly at the two parcels of hair that always seemed to stand almost straight up from his head. Another ruffle of his hair made double-sure that they wouldn’t go up, but they continued sticking up no matter what he did.

It was, unsurprisingly, hopeless. Now that he was here, he couldn’t quite do anything about them anyway. So, as always, he elected to ignore the state of his haircut and instead wandered further inside.

It had only been last Sunday that Rantaro visited this particular club on a whim. There was nothing for him to do, and his next trip wasn’t until next week due to unforeseen delays, and so he decided to check it out. It wasn’t too out of control like those parties on television, he noticed. It was a club with shows being held every other hour of the night, and nobody he really knew personally seemed to know about it. It was mild. A place to relax. And that was why he had decided to pay it a second visit.

He stole an empty seat by the bar as his eyes glided towards the stage. That stage, front and center of the establishment, was already lit up with a grand performance. Tonight’s customers surrounded it, laughing and having a great time with the performer’s apparently charming personality, but Rantaro decided to avoid that part of the club for now. He wasn’t exactly too keen on the shows this time, but he promised himself that maybe next time he would go see it up close.

Despite not being over there, though, Rantaro couldn’t help but watch from his corner with light intrigue. The show was...flashy. But not overly flashy, he noted. It reminded him of those nice dancers in Brazil he saw that one time—

“Welcome, sir. Is there anything I can help you with today?”

Rantaro’s attention switched quickly from the stage to the source of the interrupting voice. On the other side of the bar, one side leaning against the counter, was a pale-faced bartender with striking, white hair. He didn’t even know hair could be so white, but he really didn’t have any room to judge with his own hair color. Seeing the two black lines going down his cheeks from his eyes, and the bright, cerulean glow of the guy’s clear irises, Rantaro could easily tell that this was no _ordinary human_ speaking.

With a more angular body structure, a few metal scratches from wear in a few places, it wasn’t hard to tell that the bartender of this club was a robot. Bots weren’t common around these parts, or any parts, really, but they existed. Mostly as working force. However, Rantaro had never seen one so...lifelike before.

Overall, they were quite a sight.

“I think I’ll just have a soda. Cola, please.”

“Certainly.”

Rantaro’s curious eye elicited barely a shy smile from the worker. It was only then that he realized a beat too late that he was staring. The bot turned away to fetch a glass and some ice for the drink, and was only when their back was turned that, in the dim lights, Rantaro could barely make out the white stamp on the back of the bot’s neck: K1-B0.

Strange. It was a model Rantaro was not familiar with.

Being from a wealthy family, a younger Rantaro had always been waited on by servants. Most of the maids were human, of course, but there were a select two or three that were robots, expensive and highly-functioning models too, perhaps the most smoothly-running machines anyone’s seen or developed. Unlike humans, who had a wide margin for error, the family bots always did their jobs with the utmost precision and efficiency.

While he grew up, the presence of robots of all kinds didn’t falter, either. In fact, the industry only seemed to grow exponentially as he got older, and even in his travels did he see robots of different makes and models replacing humans in all sorts of odd jobs. It wasn’t like anyone would see many robots on a daily basis, though. Just those employers who had the funds could afford a luxury like that. It was an odd technological revolution, in his opinion, but since the industry had been doing well in recent years, he didn’t really see a reason to be complaining. Much.

However, despite his exposure to many common designs of worker bots, Rantaro had never even heard of one with the serial number ‘K1-B0’. Maybe it was a new, rarely-sold type?

Cra-ck! Hissss...

The sound of a cola can being cracked open was enough to shake Rantaro from his thoughts. The bartender bot had not yet looked up from the soda they were pouring, but could somehow tell the face Rantaro was making. “You look like you have some questions.”

Rantaro smiled. “Was it that obvious to tell?”

“People usually have similar expressions when they want to say something to me.”

Of course, Rantaro thought. Seeing so many people a night, he wasn’t surprised ‘K1-B0’ could tell something was on his mind. “It’s just that I’ve never seen your model around here before.”

The pouring stopped for a moment as the bot finally glanced up. They seemed...surprised. But that reaction was quickly smothered as they slid the glass of cola across the bar for Rantaro to catch. “...Though, that’s usually not the thing people say.”

“Oh, sorry. Did I overstep my boundaries?”

“N-nothing of the sort! It just...caught me off-guard is all.”

Huh. Maybe asking what kind of model a robot is isn’t exactly a common conversation starter. Nevertheless, Rantaro grew exceedingly curious. “Well, in that case, your serial number is…”

“Unique.”

“And therefore…?”

“I was custom-made.”

Rantaro blinked.

“...I take it you did not know bots could be custom-made.”

“Not really.” Rantaro poked at the ice in his glass with a straw. “The ones I’ve been around have just been carbon copies of each other, from pre-approved blueprints. And not nearly as humanlike, either...Being able to even have a custom bot is news for me, actually.”

The bot gazed over Rantaro for a moment, responding in a much quieter voice, lest the wrong ears hear their words. “Yes, well. It is a service not quite open to the general public.”

Rantaro didn’t know how to effectively respond to that, so he just nodded and gazed into his fizzing glass of ice and cola. A custom bot business behind the scenes of those not rich enough to pay for it, he silently guessed. It kind of worried him what kind of shady purposes were being given to these intelligent machines. People of average class really had no idea about the sketchiness of it all.

They sat in silence for a good amount of time. Rantaro, drowned partially in his thoughts again, and the bot, patiently watching the occurring show wrap up to get ready for the next one. When Rantaro looked up, he caught a glimpse of their idle look, though they were mostly turned away.

“K1-B0…”

“Ah, please, call me Keebo.”

“Sorry. Keebo.” Rantaro watched Keebo’s eyes snap back onto him, now attentively listening. “Is this your only job?”

The look on Keebo’s face switched, as if he had seen the question coming eventually. He backed off from leaning on the counter to smooth out his black apron, leaving Rantaro to briefly wonder if it was something he said. “Indeed. I work every night, 6pm to 2am, except on Sundays.”

Explains why Rantaro hadn’t seen Keebo the first time he came here. “Really? That’s all?”

Keebo paused once more, now being the one to wonder if he had said something off. “Erm, yes. Were you expecting a different answer?”

Truthfully, Rantaro _was_ expecting a different answer. Someone as technologically advanced as Keebo, mixing drinks for complete strangers six days of the week until 2am. It sounded almost like a waste of potential.

“Well, no, but...”

He stopped mid-sentence. A sudden buzz of his cellphone prevented Rantaro from completely finishing his thought. With a frown, he picked it up to see who had decided to text him at such a late hour, only to find that it was one of his alarms reminding him to go to bed. He had forgotten that he had set it earlier that afternoon, knowing that he would eventually come back to this place later in the evening.

It was kind of sad, he had only been there for a short while. Rantaro simply shut the dull-sounding alarm off with a soft sigh before slipping the cellphone into his back pocket.

“...I take this as a sign that you are leaving?”

Rantaro quirked an eyebrow at Keebo. “I’m guessing you could tell that from body language, too?”

“Not really. I just caught a glimpse of your screen.”

Oh. Well now Rantaro just felt like a fool. Keebo only responded with one of his innocent smiles,  
but Rantaro wasn’t completely sure if he was joking or not.

“Either way, yeah. I gotta go, unfortunately.” Rantaro took his glass and downed the rest of his soda. Maybe it wasn’t alcohol like he thought he would get, but he knew Morning Rantaro would thank Night Owl Rantaro for not trying to drink this time around. There were way too many hangovers and regrets attached to those poor decisions. “It was nice having a short chat with you, Keebo. Maybe next time we can talk more.”

“Next time? Are you implying you would come back again?”

“Sure. I’ll tell you all about my travels and such so you won’t have to be stuck here waiting for customers.”

A small, perhaps grateful smile broke through Keebo’s initially confused expression. He plucked the empty glass Rantaro had been using from the counter and dumped the remaining ice into a sink. “You would do that? You are too kind. Ah, if it is not too much trouble then, may I ask your name…?”

“Rantaro. Rantaro Amami.”

“Mister Amami.”

Rantaro smiled at Keebo’s politeness, but quickly waved his hand in dismissal. “Just ‘Rantaro’ is fine.”

Keebo’s smile warmed up a bit more at that. “Rantaro. It was a pleasure serving you tonight. Please, come again.”


	2. i went on a vacation and all i got for you was this keychain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been holding off on publishing another chapter for so long because I had a lot of doubts
> 
> But, I managed to finish because Amamiibo deserves their tag filled with nice stories
> 
> None of this is beta’d or even edited much, so if there’s mistakes then I apologize in advance. I hope you enjoy reading!

The following night, Rantaro returned to the club as he promised.

And he did so the night after that as well, and even after his planned short trip (which he promised to bring Keebo back a souvenir), he visited the nightclub the moment he had a clear enough schedule. The day of reckoning happened to land on a Friday, the one day of the week he was usually busy. Except this one particular Friday was the day he had gotten back from his little vacation.

Immediately upon entering, he noticed the building was much more crowded than he last remembered. No longer was the crowd majority cooped up around the stage. Instead, bodies of strangers were everywhere, sitting, standing, talking. The atmosphere was the complete opposite of what it had been yesterday night, not that Rantaro really minded personally — he could easily deal with a crowd and with people.

What, or rather who he was actually worried about was Keebo.

No doubt that on a busy Friday night that the bartender would have no time to chat. Rantaro had said that he would keep Keebo company whenever he visited, but by the looks of it, Rantaro’s presence would just be drowned out by the business. After all, Keebo’s job did come first. It was what he was made for. And he didn’t want to disturb him during a late-night rush hour, especially since they’ve only met a while ago and that pestering the robot for a word would be bothersome.

He would’ve just left and given Keebo his space. But Rantaro had already come armed with a small gift box he had planned to present the charming bartender with, and he wasn’t about to carry it all the way back home unopened.

“Sorry— Excuse me—!”

Rantaro dodged between groups of people to get to the bar at the side of the building. Keebo himself stood behind the counter, too busy pouring some fragrant drink out into a dainty glass to notice Rantaro at first. But as soon as the drink was served, Keebo turned, sensing the new arrival, only to pause for a short beat upon realizing who it was.

“Rantaro! You frightened me for a second there. I did not realize it was you.”

A somewhat apologetic smile seemed to make its way up Rantaro’s face. “Sorry. Probably should’ve said something, huh? I think I caught you at a bad time anyway. There are way more people here than there were last night.”

Keebo shook his head. “It’s not a bad time. Not like I’m the only one here serving the alcohol on Fridays, you know.”

He vaguely gestured to the two or three servers roaming around with silver platters, handing out an assortment of booze to anyone that ordered. Rantaro’s eyebrows raised a bit at the sight.

“This place has waitresses.”

“Of course. At least on busy nights. Otherwise, it’s usually just me.”

Rantaro watched one of the servers patiently taking the order of some customers. He suddenly wondered to himself if Keebo could have ended up as one of them, if not the bartender.

“You can order something from the cellar too if you don’t wish to wait for me to make something,” Keebo continued, too busy wiping the counter down to notice Rantaro’s curious staring. “But, of course...Nothing from a tap can ever beat my mixing expertise.”

The confidence in Keebo’s voice made Rantaro subtly smile. He pulled his attention back and leaned forward to get a better look at the menu card. “We’ll have to test that out. I know you don’t really drink, for obvious reasons, but...I kinda wanna know what your favorite thing is to make.”

“My favorite thing?”

“Yeah, you have a favorite drink, don’t you?”

Keebo seemed to stand still as he processed the question. “I never really had an absolute favorite. I just know how to recommend which drinks go well with what.”

“...You’ve never had a favorite?”

“Not really.”

Rantaro gave Keebo a look, but he supposed it was to be expected. He snatched the menu card from off the counter, and, without looking at all, pointed to a random spot on it.

“Make me this one, then.”

Keebo blinked as he suspiciously leaned forward to read exactly what Rantaro had pointed out. Never had he seen someone order a drink so unpredictably. Sure, he’s had customers order the first thing that catches their eye, like a fancy drink name or something, but never by just pointing randomly without, well. Looking.

But, then again. Based on the past few conversations with him, Keebo found it difficult to understand Rantaro at times, anyway. Maybe it was just another part of the complex human mind that Keebo had yet to understand.

Without questioning it any further (it was bad form for a robot to question a direct request from a human), Keebo went ahead and made the drink. It was one of the more common orders, so Keebo was able to show off a practiced trick or two along with it, ensuring the show was just as good as its flavor. With a final flourish, the drink was poured into a curvy glass over ice before he stuck a colorful, green straw into it and slid it towards Rantaro.

“Order up.”

An amused smile crossed Rantaro’s face. He leaned down to take a small sip of the surprise drink through the straw. A sweet, slightly bitter taste flooded his mouth.

“Wow, Keebo...this is amazing.”

The unexpected praise caused Keebo’s face plates to heat up. Immediately, his gaze turned down and he touched the tips of his fingers together.

“It’s really nothing.”

“You call that act ‘nothing’? You’re a pretty good bartender for a robot, you know?”

Keebo’s bashful expression instantly gave way for his disappointment. He flashed Rantaro a disapproving look and planted his hands on his hips.

“That’s quite robophobic of you, Rantaro.”

The sheer whiplash of the subject change nearly caused Rantaro to spit the drink out of his mouth. Of course. He turned away, coughing a little into his elbow before looking apologetically up at Keebo. He was smiling again. But it was way more embarrassed than his usual smile.

“Sorry…Let me rephrase that. You’re a pretty good bartender in general, Keebo.”

Apparently satisfied with the correction, Keebo’s disappointment faded away and he turned back to washing glasses in the sink.

Rantaro watched Keebo work in the meantime, in a non-creepy way of course. The way Keebo did his job was just so fluid and effortless, even when attending to several customers at once, each drink came out perfect as if he had been bartending his whole life. He probably has been bartending his whole life, Rantaro thought to himself then, remembering that Keebo could just have had that information uploaded to him. But, even so. Rantaro couldn’t downplay Keebo’s learning abilities.

“Hey, Keebo.”

Keebo looked up, blinking curiously. “What is it, Rantaro?”

The gift box Rantaro had been carrying around all night was suddenly set on to counter. Before Keebo had any time to process a response, Rantaro pushed the simple gift box towards him and gestured at him to open it up.

“Brought you a little something from my trip. I think you’ll like it.”

A pause. Keebo’s mouth gaped open a little, though words didn’t seem to come out of it. Nevertheless, he took the gift box in his hands, staring down at the neatly-wrapped bow on top.

“For me? Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Rantaro threw out one of his more charming smiles. “I promised to get you something, didn’t I?”

Carefully, Keebo undid the ribbon surrounding the box. He set it aside before going ahead and lifting the cover to peer inside. His eyes lit up, literally, at the sight of a small, battery-like shape nested in wads of pink tissue paper.

He picked it up. The battery was adorably small. It was then that he noticed a keychain attached to it when he pulled it out.

“A keychain.”

The response to the gift elicited a shrug from Rantaro. “I couldn’t think of anything else. But I saw it in a gift shop and thought of you. The guy selling it told me it was a recycled battery.”

Keebo just stared at the keychain that settled in the middle of his palm. It was no dazzling jewel,  
nor was it a precious relic, but the old battery on a keychain stirred a foreign sensation in Keebo’s circuits. He couldn’t figure out what it was. But holding the battery, knowing it was gifted to him by someone who enjoyed his company, made him feel some semblance of positive human emotion.

Immediately, Keebo made one of the metal loops on his hip the keychain’s new home. He let it hang there, the place being obscured enough by his apron as to not raise too many questions. Even so, he suddenly felt giddy to have a brand-new decoration on him.

“...I love it.”

Rantaro glanced up and hummed cheerily back in response, his mouth full with the straw that stuck out from his drink.


End file.
